So, here I am updating. Yup, still alive, and yup, still pregnant. Although that came into question this past Friday evening....
My life has been a bit crazy over the past three weeks: preparing to move again (but just across the street, so not too bad) and get ready for a visit from my husband's brother and his family. The latter producing extreme stress in my MIL, which she so lovingly regurgitated in my direction one too many times prompting me to tell my husband to muzzle his mother already. We have a great relationship, my MIL and I, but sometimes.....you get the picture.
So, last Friday after much stress and too much hamster-wheel-in-the-brain I began to have contractions, which really freaked me out (I'm was 31 weeks pregnant. Too soon!). My husband and I went to the hospital where they drew blood, tested urine, and *ahem* swabbed. Three hours later it was determined that I was not in labor. However, I was placed on moderate bedrest for the next three days. And in those three days we had to move. Luckily I had started packing three weeks ago.
I was placed upon the couch, where I directed traffic. That wasn't so bad. Then the moving was done, and it went very smoothly. Our friends were amazing! It was the aftermath of the move that started eating at me. I couldn't do ANYTHING: no unpacking, no organizing, no picture hanging. Have I ever mentioned how I HATE to be uprooted? Well, it's very difficult for me. I like an organized space, a place where my "things" are, my books tucked lovingly into their shelves. Now all of that was in boxes in the middle of my dining room.
This was the point where I had to either breathe or breakdown and cry. So, I did a little bit of both. I called upon my almost-forgotten hara breathing, and calmed myself down. Of course, when you're pregnant, where is your hara? Still in the same place? Just below your bellybutton? Well, my bellybutton has moved...but, I know where my hara is. And it's still strong.
Now I'm off bedrest with conditions: be careful, listen to your body and do a little unpacking at a time. My bulldog of a husband, of course, forbids me to do anything but go to the beach. Not a bad idea, but I'm still going to unpack. Just a little.